


The Perfect Fit

by mannarose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut, Language, angst (Mild)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannarose/pseuds/mannarose
Summary: Steve Rogers always seems to be wearing shirts that are way too tight for your peace of mind. One day you get the whole story.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Kudos: 80





	The Perfect Fit

**Author's Note:**

> The meta regarding Steve’s smedium shirts inspired this light little one-shot. I was in a mood to smother him in fluff, so here we go. Originally posted to tumblr.

You came skidding to a halt in the communal kitchen, a sweaty t-shirt in your hand, and a hooting crow on your lips. "I knew it! I knew it!"

Surprisingly, several members of the team were still there. Bucky and Sam were plowing through a massive pile of eggs and bacon while Natasha and Wanda delicately spooned up the oatmeal and berries porridge Vision had made with Wanda's supervision. Delighted to have such an audience, you held up your prize.

"Size small! He wears size fucking small t-shirts!" You were shaking the t-shirt in your fist, your voice strident with mock insult but wobbling with repressed laughter. "I fucking told you guys!"

Natasha stood up. "Let me see." She held her hand out for the shirt, then, sneering at the sweat, took it between the fingernails of her thumb and forefinger. Looking at the label printed on the inside of the shirt, she raised a brow. "Nonsense," she scoffed. She had been sure he wore at least a medium. Her eyes met yours, and the amused exasperation there matched how you felt exactly. Medium could be explained.

Small was simply gratuitous.

"Doll," Bucky started as Natasha delicately handed the shirt back to you and returned to her oatmeal, "so he wears small shirts. What's your point?"

"Yeah, doll," said an unamused voice behind you, "what _is_ your point?"

On the premise that a good defense is a good offense, you spun around to shake the shirt in Steve's face. His hair was wet and slicked back from his face, evidence he'd hopped out of the shower to chase you down when you stole the t-shirt from the locker room after his morning workout.

Unfortunately for you, he was also wearing nothing but the gray sweats he’d hurriedly tugged on, leaving you even more distracted by Steve's chest than usual. Normally you at least had a size small t-shirt between your eyes and all… that… muscle. Your fingertips itched to touch, which is why size small offended you so much.

The least he could do is not be so fucking tempting all the damn time.

“Size small, my ass! You’re the size of a semi-truck!” You went on the attack, trying to make it about the fact that he wore ridiculously small shirts considering his size. Hell, it was like he picked everything he wore based on how much his chest stretched the fabric.

You shot Bucky a vicious look when he called out, "Yeah, but why do you care?"

"I'm not saying I do," you retorted haughtily. "I just wanted to prove that Cap wears a size small even though that's insane. Why he does so is up for debate."

"So, what's your theory, beautiful?" Sam asked, a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth up in pure merriment. He was hopeful that if he and Bucky pushed you in the right way you'd finally give up and admit to Steve you had a thing for him. If you did that, maybe they could push Steve into admitting he had an almost painful crush on you. And then maybe the rest of them could stop walking through the mutual pining clouds.

You scanned Steve's chest, trying and failing to keep your gaze from heating. Even Steve couldn't miss the pure sexual appreciation that raked his body along with your eyes. His heart picked up at the thought that maybe you were more receptive than he'd thought.

You'd always been playful, but carefully detached. You were never unfriendly, but you always remained carefully separate. He was beginning to wonder, based on the speed of your heart as your eyes roved over his chest, if your aloof demeanor hid a secret.

"I think he's showing off," you laughed. You winked and tossed the shirt back to him. "And who can blame him?"

The last thing you saw before you sauntered out, figuring there was no way you were going to get a better exit line, was Steve's blushingly pleased smile.

Much, much later, well into the evening, you sat reading in the library. The stereo was on low, as were the lights but for the reading lamp over your shoulder. You were staring at the page, but you weren't really seeing it, too focused on the memory of Steve's smile that morning. Could he see that it was more than just harmless flirting? Could he tell that it was more for you? If he could, did he like it?

Should you ask? Or leave it be? If Steve was interested, he was more than capable of making a move. You’d always kept a deliberate platonic barrier between yourself and your colleagues, however, wary of mixing the personal and professional. Should you make it clear you’d be receptive? Were you receptive? Were you making an exception in this case? It was Steve, after all. Sweet, kind, amazing Steve. Wouldn’t anyone make an exception for him?

The sound of the door opening and closing as someone came into the room had goosebumps inexplicably running over your skin. You scolded yourself that it could be anyone, that just because your unruly heart was jumping up and down didn't mean Steve had come in. Even if it was Steve, that didn’t mean he was looking for you.

"There you are." Steve's voice, warm and friendly, had you melting like chocolate on the tongue. He sounded happy to see you and had you beaming a welcoming smile back as you looked up from your book.

"Here I am," you flirted, your smile taking on a hint of the coquette as he came further into the room. Fuck it; you were making an exception.

His cheeks went pink. It was the cutest fucking thing you'd ever seen. Big frat-bro looking men like this shouldn't be so bashful and blushy. It wasn't fucking fair. "Is it okay if I join you?" he asked gently, as though there was a universe in which you were capable of saying no.

"Of course," you said incredulously, grinning at him. Still pink and smiling, he settled onto the couch next to you.

"I wanted to tell you the real reason I have so many small shirts."

You felt a rush of chagrin at the thought that you might have hurt his feelings. You’d been teasing, flirting, and hated the idea that you may have inadvertently caused pain. Without thinking, you reached out to touch his knee with an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry if you thought I was complaining.” You chuckled a little and opted to flirt more overtly than was your usual so he’d could see you’d meant the whole thing as a joke. “‘Have you seen how good I look in size small t-shirts?' is more than enough reason for me, Steve.”

Steve looked down at your hand on his knee; the warmth seeming to seep into his skin. He practically lived for the accidental brush of your skin against his; your deliberate touch made his heart race. Which is why, when your gaze followed his and you started to pull away, he couldn’t stop his own hand from coming up to cover yours and stop your retreat.

Your breath caught and your eyes lifted to his adorably pink face. He looked both embarrassed and terrified as he smiled, a little weakly, at you. Your heart pounding like a drum, you threw caution to the winds and smiled fully at him as you turned your hand in his until you were palm to palm with him.

The smile that lit up his face in response nearly blinded you. "Still," he said, his face turning shy as he looked down at his hand closing gently around yours, "it's because I'm terrified of department stores."

You frowned a little in confusion. “Why?” You ducked your head a little to try and catch his eye.

Steve couldn’t resist the sweet expression on your face, couldn’t help but smile shyly into your eyes when you squeezed his hand gently.

“They're so complicated,” he confessed, a little ashamed. You could hear the genuine anxiety in his voice and you almost sighed as you melted. “There’s so much stuff and a lot of it doesn't make sense.”

Steve kept going, not noticing that the pink staining his perfect cheeks, the shy, sweet curve to his lips, the bashful, embarrassed dip to his eyelids was absolutely destroying you. Now that he was telling someone, he couldn’t stop, the words tumbling out.

“I just grab whatever looks closest to what I need and escape.” He shrugged, a lost look in his eyes as he imagined it. "I grab small because for a lot of my life, even the smallest stuff was too big. I'm in panic mode, so I don't think, I just grab and go."

"Oh my god," you muttered, practically losing your mind at how unbelievably fucking cute he was. You could barely resist Steve as it was; this sweet, lost softness was demolishing what little resistance you still possessed. It was taking everything you had to not crawl into his lap. "How are you this…" You trailed off, not able to articulate how much you adored him in this moment.

Steve thought for a moment that you were disgusted with him and the sick feeling that caused in his stomach only intensified when you pulled your hand out from under his. He existed in an endless moment of torment until your hands came up to cup his face. His eyes lifted and caught yours and in the next moment he was drowning in the affection he found there.

"…perfect." Your voice was breath of devotion. Something about his vulnerability made you feel like you could be vulnerable back and you heard yourself saying, your voice an ache of sound, "Steve, is it okay if I kiss you?"

Steve couldn’t understand, lost and confused by your sudden overt adoration. "Why?"

Your eyebrows lifted both at the question and at the look of surprise on Steve's face. Apparently, you weren't the only one not thinking before you spoke this evening. It gave you even more courage. "Because I've wanted to almost since I met you and I can't keep my mouth shut about it anymore."

The next moment Steve’s lips were on yours and you were sighing giddily into his mouth as your arms slid gently around his neck and his came around your waist. He had you folded close almost immediately, delighted with both your answer and the feel of your body against his. Your last resistance had crumbled, and you'd slid into his lap as you'd pulled yourself close to him.

"Y/n," he chuckled gently when you pulled your lips from his to brush them all over his sweet face, "I would love for you to kiss me."

You heard yourself giggle and if his smile had been less cheerful, you would have been embarrassed to hear yourself make such a noise. Steve looked overjoyed, however, at being the inspiration for such a happy sound bubbling out of you and you couldn't resent or regret it.

You also couldn't resist his eyes when the sadness lifted, when he was looking at you with the lightness of the young man he was never allowed to be. You'd had a girly crush on him for what felt like forever, and the sight of his happiness, because of you, left you reeling. You decided not to question your good fortune, opting instead to take him at his word. Your lips met his and you sank into his kiss with a hum.

Steve couldn't have been happier with the direction this conversation had gone. He’d meant merely to take an opportunity to talk to you, put your relationship on a more friendly footing by sharing a part of himself with you. He'd never expected to reap this kind of reward.

Your world narrowed to Steve, and in his solid yet gentle arms you found a soft and generous place where nothing existed but the two of you. His lips tenderly coaxed yours apart until his tongue was sweeping in and you were tasting the honey sweetness and cinnamon spice of his mouth. Soft plump lips gave enough to leave you obsessed almost immediately. If you’d known kissing Steve would be like this, you’d never have waited this long.

Sweetness held sway as your lips and tongues tangled together. Almost innocently, his hands moved from your back, one down to your hip to squeeze tight and pull you close, the other up to cup to the back of your neck.

Your arms were tight around his neck, your hands buried in thick blond hair. For a long, beautiful moment you simply caressed his lips with your own, tasting his mouth, breathing his breath, bright and joyous.

All too soon, your hands started to clench with heat rather than only warmth, his soft hair tempting you to use it for leverage to tilt his head for a deeper, hotter angle. His hand at your hip was gripping and releasing as he pulled you closer to his chest. His arms tightened as innocent affection heated until he was hard as iron beneath you.

You pulled back to look at Steve and the expression there took your breath away. Flushed and pretty, his lips were swollen from yours and parted to let gasps of excitement escape. His bright blue eyes were shining with both desire and affection and had you feeling like you were falling in to drown. You nuzzled your mouth and nose against his as you shifted and breathed, “Steve?”

“Yeah?” he breathed back, his eyes fluttering at the feel of your ass rubbing against his erection as you shifted in his lap. You couldn't help yourself; you found him both sweet as sugar and so sexy you were having to stop yourself from ripping his too tight shirt off.

"Should I ever" --you stopped to brush your lips over his pretty pink cheek-- "suspect that" --you kissed his other cheek-- "you are wearing" --his left eyelid-- "any size shirt” --his right eyelid-- "other than small" --the right corner of his mouth-- "I will sneak into your room" --the left corner of his mouth-- "remove the offending garment…"

Now that you were at his mouth, you couldn't resist it and you trailed off to sink in again with another hum of enjoyment. After another long, even more heated kiss that had you wondering how he'd respond if you invited him back to your rooms, you broke the kiss gently to finish in a whisper against his lips, "…and replace it with one of the proper size. Clear?"

Steve's smile spread, slow and wickedly sexy. "Yes, ma'am." He took your lower lip between his teeth and purred in his throat. You were astonished to find you could actually feel yourself clench in excitement at the sound. "You don't need to sneak, though," he murmured against your mouth, his voice both an ache and a temptation. "You're always welcome."

Steve was nearly blinded by your smile, and his mind nearly blanked by the slow roll of your hips, when you replied, breathless, “Is tonight too soon?”

Steve could barely believe that his inability to shop could lead to this. He'd been pining away for you, certain he'd only make you uncomfortable should he confess his feelings. To hear you offer him all he'd wanted, just that simple, made his heart race.

“I don’t know,” he replied, and the dimming of your smile had him kissing you quickly and grinning into your face to show you he was teasing. “If I say yes, you’ll discover my secret right away.”

Now that you knew he was flirting rather than rejecting, you teased back, your fingers combing through his hair, fingernails dragging gently over his scalp. “I love secrets,” you breathed into his ear. “Do tell.”

Steve’s eyes were rolling back in his head as his hand slid up and down the outside of your thigh, the heat of his palm seeping easily through the denim into your skin, setting it aflame. He adored the tingling pleasure of your hands in his hair, the shivers from your breath on his skin.

“I have plenty of shirts that fit,” he confessed, his voice low and tight with lust. You were rocking your body seductively against him as your grin spread. “Thanks to Nat, because I really am hopeless in department stores.” You narrowed your eyes in amused suspicion when he shrugged sheepishly. “I only wear the small stuff around you.”

You sat back, a little surprised, but utterly charmed, both by the confession and the sweet pink all over his face as he made it. “You wanna wear me?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think better of it, though when you could you wanted to take back the crude phrasing rather than the sentiment.

Not that it mattered when Steve’s arms were sliding under you as his jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek jumping and inexplicably making your underwear wet. He stood in a burst of motion, carrying you quickly toward the door.

“Your bed or mine?” he growled, and the relief had you fastening your mouth at his neck to taste the salt of his skin. Your arms were tight around his shoulders, one hand in his hair, the other with your fingertips caressing the soft skin in the hollow of his throat.

You answered against his skin, your voice a rasping ache, “Against the wall for all I care." Steve shuddered and burst into the next thing to a run when your voice breathed the words he’d never thought to hear but ached for, nonetheless. “Steve,” you whispered, “I just want you.”

Now that he was hearing them, nothing could stand in his way.

A gloriously long time later, Steve lay on his back in his bed, staring at the ceiling with a decidedly smug grin on his face. His big warm palm was smoothing up and down your spine and if you were still solid, it’d be melting you. As it was, his lovemaking had left you boneless and satisfied. You were cheerfully draped across the bare chest that had so obsessed you.

You lifted your head to smile into Steve’s pretty face. “Perfect fit.”


End file.
